


The Path You Lead

by CelesteJEvans



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Arthur Meets the Great Dragon, Gen, Merlin Memory Month, Pre-Canon, Young Arthur, fate/destiny
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-21
Updated: 2018-03-21
Packaged: 2019-04-06 05:43:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,763
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14050158
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CelesteJEvans/pseuds/CelesteJEvans
Summary: Young Arthur explores the castle late at night and discovers more than he bargained for.





	The Path You Lead

**Author's Note:**

> This is my prompt for Merlin Memory Month: Day 7, Path 1 "He is your destiny, and he is your doom." 
> 
> I still think this story can be canon so I'll leave it where it is.
> 
> Any and all comments are appreciated.

Outside of Camelot, the air was calm, the earth was at peace, and spirits were waiting. Tonight, the world was resting quietly without a care in the world. The young prince turned over for the fifth time in an hour. It was official: Arthur couldn’t sleep. He’d tried counting sheep, tried concentrating on his breathing the way he did when he was training. _Focus on your breath and the rest will come_ the older knight had told him. But it wasn’t coming. He kept reliving that moment in the chamber room that very afternoon.

_“You are ten years old now,”_ his father bellowed _“more than that you are the only heir to the throne – the_ Prince _. You cannot simply go into to town and play with the other boys.”_

_“But father”_

_“Enough, Arthur. Your path is different from other knights. You must come to accept that. One day, the fate of the kingdom will fall on your shoulders and yours alone.”_

All he’d wanted was to help the boys pull a prank on old Widow Dressel. But he’d been caught by a guard snatching eggs from Farmer Gaeilig’s henhouse and marched straight to his father – interrupting a counsel meeting in the process.

Needless to say, the King disapproved of his child-like behavior. Arthur knew better than to act out. Or if he didn’t, he’d have to learn.

But he didn’t want to learn. He threw his heavy blankets off and sat straight up, swinging his legs over the side. Maybe one day he’d learn but tonight, he wanted to be like the other boys his age. Tonight, he wanted to break the rules.

Not so much that he’d bring disgrace to the kingdom – as his father would put it – but something. Something small.

Like sneaking out in the middle of the night to explore the castle.

Though it was his home, Arthur rarely gained the opportunity to walk around at his leisure and truly discover would secrets lay hidden within the walls. His father promised to teach him the location of the siege tunnels when he was old enough to be trusted with such a secret. _Perhaps when I’m twelve_ , he thought. No, he wanted the chance to learn for himself.

Decision made – and when Prince Arthur made a decision, nothing could change his mind – the young boy placed his feet on the cold stone and padded softly to his clothes which had already been laid out for him. With a bumbling silence, he dressed himself in the dark, fingers reaching with strategic precision for his trousers, tunic, and finally boots. All he needed for this mission was a thin layer – the bottom layer – of his complete outfit. He mustn’t look very princely lest he be spotted by a patrolling guard.

The young prince opened his door just enough to peek through the crack to inspect the hallway. No one was standing guard. There were guards standing outside the castle but only a few were employed within the walls – save for those guarding the King and his cells. He didn’t know their patrol pattern but perhaps he’d get lucky.

Arthur swiveled around the door, closing it behind him as he leaned his back against the outside. He held his breath, listening for voices, or footsteps, or even the crinkling of chainmail, but nothing came. He exhaled. Step one of his mission was complete.

The castle housing the treasures of Camelot – both living and dead – was rather boring. Sure, he knew where the treasure room was, and where the cells were, and how to access the back staircase to enter the kitchen – should he want to sneak a roll or two that no one would miss. But this wasn’t the adventure he had promised himself. Every twenty minutes or so, Arthur hid behind a pillar or doorway in order to avoid a guard but they never paid him any mind. Even when he accidentally knocked into a hanging shield and thought the clang had echoed through the whole of Camelot, no one came to investigate. He made a mental note, that when he was king, his guards would become more suspicious at every sound. What if it wasn’t a young prince looking for some fun, but a really clumsy assassin seeking to kill the King?

Still, after a few hours of wandering the halls, Arthur found himself on the south side of the castle, walking down stairs that seemed to go on forever. He’d never been down these stairs before – he would have remembered – so his heart began to race.

As the boy continued his descent, his mind raced faster. What could possibly be at the bottom of these stairs? Treasure? A tomb? Perhaps his father’s sense of humor? His pace slowed – but didn’t stop – when he realized he could feel a strong wind just below him. Three beats of air and then silence for three beats. Air for three, silence for three. Something on other side of these steps was breathing. Deep breathing. Something on the other side of these steps was sleeping.

His father had once told him of the time of the Great Purge, when the King finally rid the kingdom of wicked magic. He’d also captured the last dragon and kept it alive as an example to those who still practice magic: resistance to the new ways is futile. He’d still been too young to truly remember the last days of the Purge but hearing his father tell stories of sorcerers who placed curses on the young prince and promised revenge were enough to keep him up at night with nightmares – not that he’d ever tell his father that.

What lay beneath had to be something much worse than his nightmares. So his feet slowed but never stopped. After all, he was the Prince of Camelot. He would never yield in the face of danger – whatever danger it was.

The further he descended, the darker his world became but he couldn’t bring himself to turn back for a torch. He used the walls as a crutch to carry him the rest of the way. There was no turning back now.

The stairs eventually gave way to a cave, more magnificent than Arthur had ever seen in any excursion he’d ever taken with the knights. It seemed to drip with diamonds, though he knew it was water, glistening off what little light seemed to fill the space. Though he couldn’t see far passed his outstretched fingertips, he knew the cave went on for days in any direction. He planted his feet to keep curiosity from dragging him too far.

Arthur simply looked on in awe. It was then that he realized the breathing had stopped. _Face your fears, Arthur. You must never be afraid._

“Hello?” His voice betrayed his apprehension but it echoed through the cave like a booming declaration.

After a moment’s silence, the young prince was nearly thrown backward by the gust of wind suddenly bursting towards him. Wings. The flap of a great wing would produce such a wind. A voice broke through the silence though Arthur couldn’t see its source. Perhaps it did not want to be seen.

“Young Pendragon.” It was an ancient sound; as old as the world itself, Arthur thought – a voice that demanded he bow to it. Instead, he cleared his throat.

“My name is Prince Arthur. You are the Great Dragon, are you not?”

“That is what some call me.” Though his heart threated to beat out of his chest, the prince felt no desire to flee. He would hear what the dragon had to say. “Have you come to finish the job your father started?”

“I-I haven’t come to kill you.” Should he have? He reached for the sword on his belt that was not there. Was that his life’s mission: to finish his father’s work? “I was walking around the castle”

“And you happened to stumble upon my prison. What a coincidence.” The dragon’s voice dripped with sarcasm. Was that even possible?

“It’s the truth.” He insisted. “I had no intention of meeting you this night.”

“Or any night, I imagine.”

Enough of this. He had to ask. He may never get another chance. “May I see you?”

There was silence, but then there was a booming echo as the dragon hummed. “I will offer you as test, young Pendragon. A show of good faith between us.”

Arthur clenched his fists with excitement or worry – he couldn’t be sure. “What is it?”

“There is torch at the base of the stairs. Bring it forward and I will light it.”

“How do I know you won’t kill me?”

“How do I know you will not kill _me_?”

“I said I”

“Bring the torch here.” It was a voice not to be disobeyed – one he recognized in his father. With an outstretched hand behind him, he felt along the rock wall for something resembling a torch to grab hold of. Finally, he produced the wooden stick and held it in front of him.

“Now what?”

“Now, you will hold it to your side and I will light it.”

He did as he was told but still asked “How?”

“’How’ is such a question that is best answered with a demonstration.” Without warning, a burst of flame rolled through the dark, igniting the torch and freezing Arthur’s nerves. He didn’t move – he flinched when startled – but never lost his resolve. The test of faith to prove honesty and mutual respect. It was something the knights had been trying to teach him for years but he finally understood. As the flame subsided and the torchlight wavered, Arthur’s muscles relaxed. He had passed the test.

Arthur raised the torch in front of him, reaping his rewards: a glance of the Great Dragon. It was nothing as he’d imagined. His scales were of the earth, as if raised from the ground and plucked from the trees to sit upon his skin. His face was as ancient as his voice but bitter from rage and kind from time. Arthur knew in that moment that he could trust the dragon at his word even if the words were harsh to hear.

“Thank you.” He found himself saying.

“Thank _you_. For showing me that there is still hope for the world above.”

Arthur furrowed his brow in confusion. “Camelot is a thriving city.”

“And it will grow to be the greatest in all the realms. Given time – and the right King.”

“How can you know that? How can you know what will be?”

The dragon rose on its haunches, towering over the young prince who took a single step backwards, the only hint that his resolve was wavering. “Boy, I am as old as the legends say. I am a creature of the Old Religion and will be here long after you are gone. I know of the prophecies that bind this kingdom to the world. I knew of your birth – and of your death – centuries ago.”

“You know the path I will lead?” Arthur spoke, a little too eagerly.  

The Great Dragon looked at the boy with what Arthur hoped was curiosity and not malicious intent. A decision was then made. “You have proved yourself worthy enough, young Pendragon. You may ask a single question.”

Arthur hadn’t expected this. He wasn’t prepared to ask. He wasn’t prepared to learn the answer. But when would he be given an opportunity such as this to learn of his future? Arthur bowed his head in humility, something his father would have him in irons for displaying to a creature of the Old Religion. But he was not his father. And so, he asked: “Will I be a good king?”

If dragons could smile, Arthur thought, this was a gentle smile of hope. “My boy, you will become the greatest king Camelot has ever known.”

He looked up at the creature now, his eyes burning through the darkness, insistent. “But will I be a _good_ king?”

The dragon settled and leveled his gaze with the young prince’s – perhaps another test of resolve. To see if he was worthy of hearing the answer. “I believe you will be.” He spoke as if he was surprised to hear the words fall from his lips. “But you will not do it alone.” He warned. “There is a boy, about your age, who will join you on your path. Together, you will bring peace to five kingdoms. He is your destiny, Arthur, but he will also bring your doom.”

“What is his name?” Arthur waved the flame around in excitement. “Please tell me.”

The Great Dragon’s laughter echoed through the cave, rattling the prince’s bones. “I’m afraid your one question was asked and answered, young Pendragon. Now it was time for you to go. If you are gone for too long your father will become suspicious.”

“But I have more questions.”

“And perhaps one day those questions will be answered. But tonight is not that night.”

“I could come back”

“It has been a privilege to meet you, young Pendragon.” The dragon cut him off. “Perhaps when we meet again, the world will be a different place.”

That was the end of the conversation. Arthur bowed his head once more. “Perhaps it will.” He acknowledged.

As he walked back through the castle, the boy ran through every second of his encounter, convincing himself it hadn’t been a dream. As he relived his adventure, his thoughts fell to the boy – the mysterious boy who would join his path. It was a path his father told him over and over again was one he must walk alone. But was that true? Perhaps he wouldn’t be alone forever.

Still lost in thought, Arthur stumbled backwards when he ran straight into the back of a guard. Oops.

He found himself being half-heartedly dragged back to his chambers with a promise that he’d see his father at first light. He wouldn’t be sleeping anyways. Now he could think in private. What could the future possibly hold for him? The Great Dragon assure him that he would be a good king – a great king, if his words were to be believed. But he had to get there first. He had to complete his training, follow his path, and one day, he would become a great king like his father. One day. But unlike his father’s warning words, Arthur knew he would not have to do it alone.

That thought settled him. It comforted him. But the rest that the dragon had said: _he will bring your doom_. What could that mean? The boy who walked his path; perhaps he was not to be trusted. Though the end would bring peace, the journey would bring destruction.

But could he trust the word of the Old Religion? Something inside Arthur said yes and yet he knew what his father would say. _You cannot trust the word of a creature of magic who would bring down the whole of Camelot_.

That was why his father had locked away the Great Dragon all those years ago. Then, Arthur decided, his father was right. The creature told lies to influence his mind but he would not be wavered. His resolve would not falter. He _would_ become a great king. But under his father’s tutelage and not from the words of a monster.

And so his encounter with the Great Dragon was forgotten. In the morning, Arthur told his father of his journey sneaking through the castle, looking for adventure but he promised, he found none. His father had smiled at his son’s curious spirit but warned that such actions would not be tolerated again. He ordered more guards to be hired within the castle walls – for Arthur’s protection of course. When his son left, Uther had summoned a trusted guard and ordered that two men be placed at the entrance to the dragon’s cave at all times. Arthur would never discover what lay beneath the castle even if curiosity got the better of him again. He must never meet the creature.

Arthur, meanwhile, went to train with the other young knights, brandishing his sword and pretending to fight dragons and other long dead creatures. At the end of the day, when he was sent for his supper, and all the other knights had turned in, Arthur looked back at his fallen prey – in the shape of a wooden shield – and bowed his head as a sign of respect to his foe. A show of humility he knew his father would hate. But he was not his father.


End file.
